Puncture
by laynee
Summary: Sam and Dean come off injured from a case.  Dean seems to be the worst off and Sam is confidant that he can handle things...but he doesn't realize how fast things can change.   Dean hurt, Sam hurt.
1. Endings and Beginnings

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, wish I did, but I don't. So please don't sue, I have no money anyway and I'm only borrowing the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

/\-sn-/\

Just before sunset, the trees were finally silent save for the slight breeze that rustled the orange and brown leaves at the top. Sam stood in the clearing in jeans, tee shirt and zip front sweatshirt all covered in mud mostly, with a few places soaked in blood on the shirt. His breath was fast and his hands shook slightly, revealing the level of his nerves. He had just finished off the demon, which had killed twelve people in the nearby town, leaving nothing but a small pile of ash to be blown away.

He could already feel the places that would be bruises in the morning. Dried blood marked a gash just under his hairline. He wasn't worried about that. He was more concerned about Dean and the two puncture marks in Sam's own left bicep from the demon's teeth or fangs or claws – he couldn't remember which.

He looked over to where Dean lay. That thing from hell threw him against a hundred-year-old tree and he fell limp at its base. Sam watched his brother fly through the air with the sick feeling of helplessness. That was how Sam was bit, or scratched. Dean woke once just as Sam was finishing up the ritual to banish the thing back to where it came from. Dean was still conscious, but he had to fight for it.

Sam's adrenaline faded a little and he automatically started assessing their situation and making plans to improve their odds. He walked over and knelt next to Dean.

"Dean?" Sam touched his brother's shoulder. "Dean, let's go."

Dean's eyes opened and slowly focused on Sam. "You kill it?"

Sam nodded. He helped Dean to his feet and they slowly walked back to the car.

"I got good news and bad news, Sammy." Dean slowly said as they approached the car. "Good news is, I see two cars; bad news is there's also two of you."

"You're less funny with a head wound." Sam couldn't help but smile a little.

"So are you." Dean grinned.

Sam bit back a retort and helped him into the passenger seat. Dean leaned back and watched Sam walk around the car in the mirrors. Sam opened the driver's side door and pulled out a bag. He dug through the contents and pulled out a vial of clear yellow anti-venom, a syringe and an alcohol wipe. He placed the items on the trunk and took his pocketknife from his jeans.

He wiped the blade with the alcohol pad and slipped off his sweatshirt. He pushed up his sleeve and wiped the two puncture marks as well. He winced a little at the sting. He took a breath and steeled himself against the pain to come. With a slightly shaking hand he picked up the knife and placed the point just above one of the wounds. He cut down through both wounds. He bit back a groan and watched the blood drip off his arm into the leaves at his feet. He took a few breaths to calm down and tightly wrapped a bandage around his arm.

He carefully filled the syringe from the vial and flicked the air out. He pushed the needle into his arm above the wound and injected the liquid. It burned slightly and the pain from the cut sharpened some. Sam packed up the supplies and tossed the bag and his sweatshirt in the backseat.

He climbed into the car, Dean looked over at him. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing, Dean." Sam started the car and drove back to the road.

Sam kept Dean talking to assess his brother's concussion. They pulled into the motel and sat for a few seconds with the car off.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see this place." Sam said looking at the peeling paint on their door.

"You just be happy I let you drive my car." Dean muttered and pushed open his door. "She isn't used to a girl behind the wheel."

"I should have left you in the woods." Sam got out of the car.

Sam grabbed the bags and let Dean stumble into the room himself. Sam walked into the room and saw Dean already spread out on one of the beds. He dropped the bags and sat on his own bed. His arm was throbbing where he cut it and his face felt flushed. Dean didn't need to know.

"You got a choice, Dean. Stay awake for the next two hours, or I get to wake you up every hour for the next four."

Dean's face was pressed into a flat pillow. "Sleep."

"Then you can't get pissed off at me when I wake you in an hour."

Sam set the alarm clock on his cell phone and leaned back on his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep. His arm throbbed in a way to remind him that it was a very recent injury. His body ached from the fight and he thought longingly about the bottle of over-the-counter painkillers in the bag across the room. He was a few minutes away from sleep when his cell phone alarm went off.

He muttered a curse under his breath and pushed himself up, fighting back the desire to roll over and ignore it. He also wasn't too keen on waking his brother.

He took a breath to prepare himself. "Dean."

Nothing.

"Dean." He ventured a little louder, but still staying out of reach. "Dean you have to wake up."

"Mmmm." Dean mumbled something.

"I won't leave you alone until I hear real words."

Dean sighed in a way that clearly stated his annoyance. "G'way." Was too muffled by the pillow to be understood.

"Dean."

Dean raised his head a fraction of an inch and enunciated perfectly. "I will strangle you."

"That's all I needed to hear." Sam stood and walked over to the bag.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Dean was out again before he pulled out the syringe and vial. He tightened a tourniquet around his uninjured arm and prepared another dose. He wiped a spot on the inside of his elbow with alcohol and watched the vein rise. He injected the liquid into his vein and pulled of the tourniquet.

A small drop of blood rose from where the needle went it. Sam pressed a square of gauze to it and bent his arm up. After a few minutes, he checked and found that it had stopped bleeding. He gently prodded the cut on his arm and found it just as tender as before. Some blood had soaked through the gauze.

He took a breath and ripped the gauze off. With regret he poured a small amount of rubbing alcohol over the wound and barely held back the gasp of pain. He took a slow breath and taped more gauze over the wound. It took a few minutes for the stinging to subside to the throbbing ache. He walked back to his bed and reset his cell phone alarm for another hour. Sam leaned back on the pillow and sighed.

"You all right, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

Dean sat up and looked over at his brother. "You realize I know you're lying?"

Sam pushed himself up so he felt less vulnerable.

"Why's your arm bandaged?"

"It got cut." Sam answered confidently.

"How?" Dean wasn't letting it go.

"By something sharp." He paused. "How's your head?"

Dean smirked. "Fantastic, and don't change the subject."

Dean went over and took hold of Sam's arm. "Bandage is fresh." He met Sam's eyes. "Make sure it doesn't get infected. Did you clean it out?"

"I'm not stupid." Sam spat.

Dean sat on the edge of his own bed. "I know, Sammy." His voice softened.

Sam didn't even bother trying to sleep the next hour. His arm and head were throbbing too much to do much more than lay with his eyes closed. Besides, he thought with a smirk, Dean was snoring loud enough to keep the rooms on either side awake.

Three more times, Sam got up and woke Dean. Every time he gave himself another injection and every time it got harder to hide from Dean as he grew more alert. Dean knew that there was something Sam wasn't telling him, but he knew better than to press the issue.

When Sam turned from the table, Dean was sitting up on the bed.


	2. Coming Clean

I don't own anything and I'm in college, so there is no point suing me – so please don't because I'd rather not go through that ordeal. Thanks.

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When Sam turned from the table, Dean was sitting up on the bed.

Sam couldn't meet his eyes. "How's your head?"

"Better. How's your arm?"

"Fine." Sam walked over to his bed and flopped down on it.

He immediately regretted the flopping because he jostled his arm and increased the pounding in his head. Dean saw the flash of pain across Sam's face.

"You okay, genius?"

Sam winced. "Shut up."

Sam closed his eyes and let Dean think whatever he was going to. Everything was fine, Sam told himself, no, everything _is_ fine. After a few moments the pain in his arm and head dulled enough for him to move back up on the pillows. Some blood had soaked through the bandage on Sam's arm.

Dean noticed, he noticed everything Sam didn't want him to. "Want me to stitch that up?"

Sam shook his head. "It needs to stay open."

Sam's eyes flew open. He didn't mean to say that, especially not to Dean. Sam took a tentative glance over at his brother. Dean's brow was furrowed as he put together Sam's words and actions. Sam hoped against all reason that Dean hadn't caught the slip.

"Claws or teeth?" Dean ventured after a while.

"Does it matter?" Sam muttered, waiting for the verbal attack.

"Probably not." Dean stood and went to the bag on the table.

Sam watched him through half closed lids. Dean dug through the contents and pulled out a fresh bandage and the rubbing alcohol. He sat on the bed next to Sam.

"Let me see it."

Sam sat up and tried to smile. "Are you still seeing double?"

"I was wrong, you're less funny without the head wound." Dean took Sam's arm.

Dean took off the bandage without causing much pain at all. Sam was impressed. Dean carefully checked the wound for infection. The cut was red around the edges, but it didn't look infected. There was a slight black edge around the two puncture wounds. Dean soaked one of the gauze pads in the alcohol and held it up. Sam tensed under his hands as the alcohol was pressed to the wound.

"Have you been taking the anti-venom?" Dean asked as he taped a bandage on Sam's arm.

"Did the first five." Sam nodded and lay back on the bed. He felt Dean's eyes on him, but ignored it.

"You should get some sleep, Dean. I'm fine."

He felt Dean stand from the bed. "Well, watch it because-"

"Because," Sam finished for him. "An infection can happen in a second, not to mention the poison running through my veins. I know." It wasn't as forceful as he intended.

Dean pulled up the laptop and turned it on. Sam heard him typing and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Aren't you tired?"

Dean shrugged. "I figured I'd look to see what was happening out there for a while."

"We moving on in the morning?"

"That's the plan."

Sam had to agree that it was time. They had already spent a week in the room while they figured out what demon was wreaking havoc in the town, now the job was done and they could move on. Not that he didn't like the vintage eighties hotel décor, he thought with a smirk, he knew Dean was ready to move on. If Sam focused only on Dean's typing, then he could almost forget about the pounding ache in his arm and head.

Sam heard the laptop close after a couple hours and Dean rummage through a bag. It was silent for a few minutes after that. Sam opened his eyes and glanced over at Dean. He was stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed. Sam followed in a similar fashion and fell asleep within a few minutes.

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Dean was the first up just after sunrise, the golden rays were muted some by hideous blue curtains. It was one of those mornings where it looked much warmer than it actually was. Dean looked over at Sam who was curled in a ball on top of the blankets. His injured arm was carefully held near his head. Dean thought he looked a little pale, but it might have been the low light.

Dean stretched his shoulders, sore from the collision with the tree, and shook his head to test its tenderness. Deeming that he was fit enough, maybe not for another run-in with a demon dead set on winning a fight, but well enough to feel mostly normal in normal activities. He headed for the bathroom with a clean shirt, his jeans and a razor.

Sam woke to the shower running. Out of habit he looked to Dean's bed, but it was obviously empty. He sat up and held his head as the room spun a little. He held a hand over his bandaged arm, but it didn't feel warm or overly tender. Hung-over would be the word that would best describe how Sam felt that morning. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hung low.

Sam didn't hear the shower stop and jumped about a foot when Dean said his name. "Jesus." He sighed.

"Definitely not, Sammy."

Sam gave him a terse look and stood. "I'm going to grab a shower."

"About time." Dean replied as Sam disappeared into the bathroom.

Sam did his best to keep his injured arm out of the warm stream. The shower could have improved greatly on water pressure, but it was plenty warm. He carefully washed away the blood from his arm and the matted blood in his hair. The warm water eased the tension in his back and shoulders.

He stepped out onto the damp bath mat and toweled himself off. He wiped the fog off the mirror and looked at himself in the reflection. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked a little paler than usual. He ignored it as he brushed his teeth and shaved.

Sam emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He slipped on boxers, jeans and a clean shirt. It felt good to be clean and free of the blood and dirt that both he and Dean accumulate so easily. Dean had most of their things packed and ready to go.

"You up to moving on today, Sammy?"

He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

Sam saw that Dean left the vial, syringe, rubbing alcohol and bandages out. Sam went to the table and responsibly cleaned and bandaged his arm again. He knew Dean was watching as Sam gave himself another injection of the anti-venom. Dean knew all too well the affects of the anti-venom. It was a catch all remedy that their father had come up with, guaranteed to counteract any demon venom one could encounter. It was not without its faults though, some of the side affects were a little hard to adjust to.

Sam packed up the remaining supplies and met Dean out by the car. Sam climbed in the passenger side and leaned back in the seat. They pulled away from the motel and set out on the road.


	3. On The Road Again

I don't own anything and I'm in college, so there is no point suing me – so please don't because I'd rather not go through that ordeal. Thanks.

---------------------

They pulled away from the motel and set out on the road.

Dean was in his element. Cruising down an empty road, radio blasting and the search for a new hunt keeping eyes and ears open to any suspicious news. Sam was watching the scenery pass in a daze. His head still pounded and his arm throbbed. He couldn't tell if the music was painful or helping distract him from the pain.

Dean turned down the music and Sam knew something was up. Sam sat up straighter in the seat, his knee twitched nervously. Dean didn't say anything, he just kept driving down the road. Sam wanted to relax, he really didn't have the strength to keep pretending that he could keep up with Dean, but he didn't trust Dean's actions.

Sam couldn't take the tension any longer. "What are you up to?"

Dean feigned innocence. "I'm driving, Sammy."

"No, you're being nice." Sam slid down in the seat a little. "It scares the crap out of me when you're nice."

"You want me to be not nice?" Dean asked and grinned at Sam.

Sam sighed and looked out the window.

"I can be a little less nice, if that's what you want." Dean continued.

"Drop it." Sam muttered.

Dean turned the music back up, not to where it was, but at least up to a near normal level for him. Sam closed his eyes to the window and fell asleep.

Once Sam was out, Dean could worry in peace. He knew the hung-over feeling from that anti-venom and he knew that Sam was trying hard to pretend that it wasn't there. Dean pulled a sweatshirt from the backseat and threw it over Sam. He turned the music up another notch and sped down the road.

Dean pulled off at a gas station and filled the tank. Sam woke only because the motion of the car had stopped. He glanced around and saw Dean near the pumps.

Dean opened the door and leaned in the car. "I need coffee. Do you want anything?"

Sam shook his head and pulled the sweatshirt on. He reclined the seat just a little and folded his arms across his chest. Dean returned with a cup of coffee, a bag of chips, sandwich and a bottle of water. He tossed the water in Sam's lap and smirked a little as his little brother jumped.

"Stop doing that." Sam snapped.

"Pay attention." Dean replied with a shrug and pulled back onto the highway.

They drove most of the day. It seemed that Dean had an idea where he was going. Sam slept for most of the car ride. He sighed and muttered something in response to dream he was having. Sam started awake and blushed slightly as Dean noticed. By dinnertime, he was sore and his headache had increased steadily. Dean could tell that Sam had about enough traveling for the day. He began to look for another motel to stop at.

Just outside the town limits, he found a motel. The Caravan advertised color television, free cable and clean rooms. He stopped at the main building and got a room from a man who must have been pushing seventy. Dean went back out to the car and pulled up in front of door number nine. He pushed open his door and glanced back at Sam.

Sam was curled into the seat and the window. His face was a little flushed and his breath fogged against the cool window. Dean hated to wake him, but knew that the motel beds had to be, at least a little, better that the car.

"Sam." Dean was careful not to bump Sam's injured arm as he shook him awake. "Sam, wake up."

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he took a slow, deep breath. He sat up and stretched a little as he tried to fully wake up.

"I'll get the bags, come in when you're ready." Dean closed his door.

Sam climbed out of the car and staggered a little as he adjusted to being standing. He touched the roof of the car for support as Dean slammed the trunk down.

"I can get my share of the bags." Sam stated as Dean walked past.

"I got them."

"Dean." Sam gave him a glare. "You're being nice again."

Dean smirked and dropped one of the bags he was holding by the door. As soon as Dean got inside, his smile fell. _What the hell was he doing?_ Dean scolded himself. _Sam was injured, sick and he was being a smart-ass._ Sam slowly walked up to the door and grabbed the bag. He walked into the room a few seconds later and dropped the bag by a small table.

Sam sat on the edge of a bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He watched Dean unpack the laptop and the bandages. Sam was at least glad that he was done shooting himself up with that anti-venom. Maybe in the morning he'd feel all right again.

"I'm going to get something to eat. Do you want to come with?" Dean asked, carefully watching Sam's face.

"Go on. I'll be fine here, get some research done or something." Sam spoke looking at the floor between his boots.

"Be back in ten." Dean closed the door as he left.

Sam eased himself back onto the bed and closed his eyes. He could have sworn that Dean had just stepped out when he was returning again. Sam sat up and swiped a hand across his face to wake up a little more. Dean held two paper bags.

He placed one of the bags on the nightstand. "Grilled cheese."

Sam nodded. The smell of the food made him suddenly nauseous.

He stood and walked towards the bathroom. "Give me a sec."

Sam closed the door and dropped to one knee in front of the toilet. He waited to vomit, but the dry heaves never turned into anything other than that. He shakily stood and took a drink of water from his cupped hands. He caught sight of his pale reflection in the mirror and leaned on the counter for a few seconds.

Sam emerged and sat on his bed. He grabbed his sandwich out of the bag and took a small bite.

"You okay?" Dean asked nonchalantly, as though he were asking about the weather.

"Yeah."

When Dean turned around to grab a bottle of water from behind him, Sam ripped off half of his sandwich and dropped it into the bag. He managed to eat a quarter of the sandwich, enough to make Dean think that he was mostly all right. He crumpled his bag and tossed it into the trashcan. Sam leaned back on the bed and sighed.

"Let me get another look at your arm."

"It's fine, Dean." He replied with his eyes closed. "How's your head?"

"A lot better than your arm. Let me take a look at it. I'll pin you to the ground if I have to."

Sam opened his eyes and looked over at his brother to see how much of that last statement was a joke. He sat up and carefully removed his sweatshirt.

Dean grabbed a clean bandage and sat down next to Sam. He carefully pulled off the bandage. Sam took a few deep breaths to calm his stomach and manage the pain. He carefully dabbed alcohol on it as Sam unconsciously jerked his arm away. After what seemed like a lot longer than was needed, Dean bandaged the cut.

"How's it look, doctor?" Sam asked as he pulled his sweatshirt back on.

"It seems all right. A little red, maybe." Dean looked at the bandage like he was still looking at the wound. "Something I can't place."

Sam slid up onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows. Dean looked at him again and went to work on the laptop. Sam was going to say that he could research, but he was asleep before the words left his mouth. Dean glanced over at Sam as he shifted in his sleep and curled on his side. Dean stood, pulled the blanket over his brother and went back to the computer screen. He worked for a few hours and turned out the light.


	4. Nightmare

That same non-suing thing sill applies. Also, thanks for all the responses, I love them all.

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He worked for a few hours and turned out the light.

Almost as soon as Sam was asleep, he slipped into a dream.

He walked through a forest, much like the one that he and Dean had just come from. Sam was alone and felt a strange compulsion to walk deeper into the woods. His years of experiences told him to be wary, but he walked on.

The trees grew thicker and the light dimmer. Branches and thorns tore at Sam's clothes and skin. A dark figure sat at the base of a tree up ahead. Sam was nearly running now, he had to go to the figure, but he didn't know why.

Sam suddenly recognized and stopped. "Dean?"

Dean was unconscious against the tree. A thin line of blood ran down his chin from his nose. Sam touched Dean's shoulder, rested two fingers against Dean's neck to feel for a pulse. With relief, Sam felt the small beat under his fingers.

The scent of sulfur came with the voice. "Welcome back."

Sam stood and slowly turned to the demon. In the shape of a boy not much older than twelve, it almost looked innocent. Sam knew better. The boy took a step towards Sam, it's form shifted slightly, blurred around the edges. It smiled knowing that the act revealed its fangs.

"You're gone, you don't exist." Sam was on edge.

The boy smiled coyly. "Am I now."

"I defeated you." Sam turned away, back toward Dean.

"Sam." Its voice was sickly sweet, too pure to be that of a real child.

He stopped and waited.

"I know what you want."

"You have nothing I want."

The demon appeared at Dean's side. In mock concert it touched Dean's face. Sam was frozen in fear.

"How wrong you are." The boy whispered. "Take a seat."

Sam was suddenly thrown back against a tree. He tried to move, but it was as though invisible roped held him still.

The demon boy circled Dean, its black eyes glittered in the falling light. "What shall I do to him?" Its eyes flashed to Sam. "Destroy him as he intended to do to me?"

"Stop." Sam yelled.

He had no plan other than to distract the demon.

"Come now, Sam, do you really think you can stop me?"

In the time it took Sam to blink, the demon was at his side. Its movements were too fast to see, but Sam felt each of the five times he was bitten. The demon sat back and licked its lips as though savoring the taste.

Sam wouldn't give it the satisfaction of revealing the pain he was in.

"Did I hurt you, little Sam?"

Sam didn't, wouldn't answer.

"Do you want me to try again to hurt you?"

Still, Sam kept silent. He focused his eyes on something distant.

"Choose, or I'll kill your brother. Slowly."

Sam glanced at the Demon.

"You or him?" The boy smiled. "I will destroy one of you."

Sam lowered his eyes to the leaves around his legs. "Me." He breathed.

The demon smiled mercilessly and walked away form Sam.

"I chose." He yelled, but it had no impact.

The demon suddenly held a blade and Sam tensed. He was helpless to do anything, to save Dean. The demon looked back at Sam and smiled. It raised the blade over Dean's chest and plunged it down.

Sam's yell echoed against the silent trees.

Dean wasn't asleep long before he was woken by Sam's muttering and thrashing in the next bed. Dean sat up on one elbow and turned on the light.

Sam's hair was damp and he had tangled himself in the sheet. He struggled against something dark in his dreams.

Dean sat up. "Sam, Sammy."

"No." He gasped. "Stop, please."

Dean went over to Sam and shook his shoulder. "Sam, wake up. Sammy."

Blood had soaked through the bandage and Sam's sleeve. If he kept moving like that he would open the wound further. Dean held Sam's arms down to keep him from hurting himself.

"Sam, wake up. Sam."

Sam's eyes flashed open, but they didn't see anything in the room. "No, Dean."

"I'm right here, Sam. Come on, wake up."

"I chose." Sam yelled. "Please, I chose!"

"Sam." Dean kept his panic in check. "Sam."

Sam's eyes focused suddenly on Dean. He blinked, his breath rapid. "Dean?" His voice was small and scared.

"I'm right here, Sam."

Sam looked around the room and relaxed some. He shakily pushed himself up and shoved the tangled sheet away. He couldn't meet Dean's eyes.

"What was it?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Don't remember."

Dean knew Sam was lying, but let it go. "Let's get your arm fixed up."

Sam looked over and saw the blood that slowly ran down his arm. His hands trembled as Dean stood and found the bandages from the bag. He returned as Sam pushed his sleeve up. Dean could feel the slight tremor in Sam's arm as he checked the wound and taped a fresh bandage over it.

Sam felt achy and he didn't think it was only from the bruises. He felt slightly feverish, but tried to make himself believe that it was just from the nightmare.

"You seem a little warm, Sam."

Sam met his eyes for the first time since waking. "I'm all right."

Dean gave him a penetrating gaze from his own bed. "Maybe take something anyway."

Sam stood as Dean stretched out on the bed. He dumped a few generic over-the-counter pills into his hand and swallowed them. He took a drink from a nearby bottle of water and crawled back to his bed. The standing and walking had made his head start to throb again. He wanted the sleep to bring relief from the pain, but feared where his dreams would take him.

Sam fought sleep for two hours as Dean snored in his own peaceful sleep. Finally, Sam couldn't fight any longer and he gave into the heaviness of his eyelids.

The demon pulled the blade from Dean's chest. Dean groaned a little and his eyes fluttered open for a moment. The blade was shimmering red as it caught the light. The blood dripped off the end. Sam desperately struggled against the invisible bonds that held him.

"Please, stop." Sam begged.

The demon turned to Sam with a sinister smile playing at its lips. It threw the knife over its shoulder. The knife stuck into the tree mere centimeters from Dean's head. Blood poured over Dean's shirt and his face paled.

Sam struggled though he knew it was pointless. "Please, take me."

"Are you sure?" The boy grinned.

"Yes."

Another blade appeared in the demon's hand. "I don't believe you."

The demon threw this one over its shoulder as well. It stuck, up to the handle, in Dean's chest. He gave an involuntary gasp and blood bubbled at his mouth as he tried to breathe.

The demon appeared in front of Sam, blocking his view of Dean. It grabbed Sam's shoulder. "I'll kill you yet, little Sammy. After I'm finished with Dean."

"You said choose and I did." Sam yelled.

"Ah." It smiled sweetly. "But I never said I'd play fair."

Sam heard Dean's last breath rattle from his lungs. He struggled against the bonds out of desperation even though he knew he'd never go free.

The demon met Sam's eyes. "Your turn."

Sam woke with a start. Terror constricted his lungs and his heart pounded in his ears. His shirt was damp with sweat and his shook. He looked over at Dean's sleeping from to make sure that he could see the rise and fall of Dean's chest. The slight movement calmed Sam a little.

Slowly, Sam sat up and placed his feet on the floor. The movement made him dizzy, so he sat with his elbows on his knees for a few minutes as the room stopped moving. He stood and walked into the dark bathroom. He closed the door and turned on the light. It felt like a dagger in his temple and he swayed on his feet.


	5. Rock Bottom

That same non-suing thing sill applies. Also, thanks for all the responses, I love them all.

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He closed the door and turned on the light. It felt like a dagger in his temple and he swayed on his feet.

He opened his eyes and saw them sparkle with fever. His face was pale, save for the two bright pink spots on his cheeks. He carefully touched the bandage and winced a little. He shuddered under the force of a chill and took a breath to steady himself. He turned on the faucet and took a few slow drinks from his cupped hands.

Dean had woken just before Sam did. He heard his little brother's terrified voice in the darkness. He was about to wake Sam again, when Dean heard him start awake. Dean pretended to be asleep so that Sam wouldn't think he was worrying.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Dean climbed out of bed and stood a few feet away. He listened to see if Sam was all right, heard the water turn on and then off.

Sam gripped the sink as the room spun around him. Everything seemed to shift in his vision as he tried to focus. He stumbled, reached the door handle and pushed the door open. Dean caught him as he fell.

Dean draped Sam's uninjured arm over his shoulders and helped Sam back to bed. Sam curled into the pillow and tangled blankets. Dean brought the bag over and sat next to his brother. Sam looked small and almost fragile on the bed.

"Sam."

He opened his eyes. "Hey, Dean."

"Let me see your arm."

Dean carefully removed the blood soaked bandage and cleaned the blood off of Sam's arm. The wound was red and infected.

"How's it look?" Sam asked as he started to realize what was going on.

"Not that great, Sammy."

Sam hardly winced at Dean cleaned up the wound the best he could. Dean dumped out two pain pills and something for the fever into Sam's hand. He took them with the water Dean handed him. Dean stuck the thermometer in Sam's ear and waited for the beep. He read the number, his face disguised what it said.

Sam looked up at Dean. "How high?"

"High enough."

"Dean."

He paused. "102.6. How do you feel?"

"I'm just tired. It is three in the morning." He smiled a little. "I'm fine."

"Sammy, you were aiming to dive into the floor a few minutes ago."

"I just got light-headed."

Dean could see that Sam was tiring. He moved to his own bed and turned out the light. Sam didn't care what dreams he had, he was too weary to fight sleep. Dean listened to Sam's slow, even breathing for nearly and hour before he dropped off as well.

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Dean wasn't surprised to see Sam still asleep when he woke in the morning. Sam had the blanket pulled tight around his shoulders, his face was placid as he slept and dreamed of nothing. Dean moved quietly around the room, the last thing he wanted to do was wake his brother.

Dean grabbed a quick shower partly because he didn't want the running water to wake Sam and he wanted to make sure that he could hear his younger brother if anything happened. Dean emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. Sam blinked his eyes open, but hadn't moved other than that.

"How do you feel?" Dean asked as he quickly dressed.

Sam sat up and shuddered a little. "All right."

He was a little less pale, a little less flushed.

"Let's see your arm." Dean sat down next to Sam.

Dean removed the bandage. It seemed a little better, but it could go either way in a second. Dean cleaned and bandaged the wound again.

Sam watched Dean carefully. "You found the next job, didn't you?"

Dean shrugged. "We can look into it in a day or two."

Sam pulled on jeans and a clean shirt. Dean looked at him for a few seconds.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sam met Dean's eyes. "We're moving on, aren't we?"

"Sam, you're injured, sick. You should rest."

"I can sleep in the car." He paused. "There's nothing here."

"We can take a day or two." Dean stepped into his boots.

Sam stood. "I feel fine. Let's just go."

Dean forced Sam to take his temperature again. It was 100.3. Sam finally talked Dean into packing up and heading out. Dean wasn't entirely sure that Sam should be traveling, but he had his mind set on going. They loaded up the car and took to the road again.

"So, what'd you find?" Sam asked after an hour of driving.

"A few unexplained events in northern Minnesota."

"Unexplained how?"

Dean shrugged. "From what I can tell, most likely an angry spirit in an abandoned school. A few kids got hurt after poking around in there."

The lapsed back into silence, well, as silent as Dean's car could get with the music going. Sam fell asleep not long after. He sat curled into his sweatshirt with his head between the seat and the window. Dean kept a close eye on his little brother as they drove through the prairies and pine trees of central Minnesota.

Dean stopped at a gas station for a quick sandwich or something for lunch. Sam slept through the stop and Dean didn't bother to wake him. As they drove on, Sam grew paler. Dean could practically see Sam's fever rising again. Dean began looking for vacant rooms at motels to stop for.

Just before sunset he found a room for the night and pulled up in front of the door. The motel was cabin themed with an emphasis on plaid and wood. Dean touched Sam's arm to wake him. His fingers came back damp with blood.

"Shit." Dean jumped out of the car and went around to Sam. He carefully opened the door and held Sam so he didn't fall out.

"Sam. Sammy, wake up." Dean reclined the seat some.

Sam's eyes slowly opened.

"Sam, how are you feeling?"

His brow furrowed as he tried to find the words. "I don't know if the anti-venom is working." His words slurred.

"It's always worked."

"I know."

Dean grabbed the bag and fished out the vial and a syringe. He quickly prepared a dose and helped Sam get his arm out of the sweatshirt. He gave Sam the injection. Sam sighed a little and closed his eyes.

Dean woke him again and half carried him into the room. He placed Sam on the bed and helped him out of the sweatshirt. The bandage had soaked completely through. Dean could feel the heat radiating from his brother as he cleaned and bandaged the wound. It looked infected again, much worse than the previous night.

Dean stood. "Sam, can you get your shirt off?"

Sam nodded and shakily pushed himself up. Dean walked into the bathroom and soaked a hand towel and a bath towel in cold water. He returned and found Sam lying back on the bed, his shirt crumpled on the floor. Dean placed the towels on Sam's chest and forehead. He took Sam's temperature again.

"What's it say?" Sam muttered after the beep.

"104.3."

Dean gave Sam a handful of pills to help with pain and fever. He made Sam drink the glass of water. Sam was half asleep as Dean took care of him. Sam shifted in his sleep and muttered something.

Dean sat at his brother's bedside through the evening. Dean did what he could, but he couldn't bring Sam's fever down. Sam tossed and turned as he slept.

Sam's eyes flew open. "Dean?"

Dean leaned forward. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Dean." His breath was shallow and fast.

"Sam, wake up. Sam."

"Please, don't kill him. Please, please."

"Sammy." Dean touched Sam's arm. "Come on, Sammy. Wake up."

Sam's eyes fell closed again and he grew still in sleep. Dean removed the bandage from Sam's arm to look at the wound again. Dean carefully cleaned in with the rubbing alcohol.

Sam sighed and woke. "Dean?"

"I'm right here."

"What are you doing?" He slurred.

Dean took a breath. "I'm going to clean out the cut on your arm. It's going to hurt."

Sam closed his eyes. Dean didn't know if he heard him or not. Dean grabbed his pocketknife and flipped the blade open. He wiped down the knife with the alcohol and paused to steady his hands.


	6. Reason

That same non-suing thing sill applies. Also, thanks for all the responses, I love them all.

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He wiped down the knife with the alcohol and paused to steady his hands. He pulled the towel from Sam's chest and put it under his arm.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Dean whispered.

He cut down where Sam already had. He opened and deepened the wound. The blood ran and soaked the towel. Sam moaned in his delirium and tried to pull his arm away. Dean held him and continued.

The point of the knife caught on something. Dean stopped and grabbed a tweezers from the bag. Carefully he moved the tweezers where the knife was. There was too much blood to see what it was. Dean pulled it out and quickly pressed gauze down to stop the blood. He held up the bit of something in the tweezers and recognized it as the tip of the demon's fang. It must have broken off as the demon bit Sam.

Sam took a shuddering gasp and half sobbed in his sleep. Dean cleaned the wound again and taped a bandage tight around Sam's arm. Dean sat back and wiped his blade clean of his brother's blood.

That's why the anti-venom didn't work, Dean told himself, Sam will fine now. Dean grabbed the vial of anti-venom. There wasn't quiet enough left for another full dose. Dean drew what he could into a syringe and gave it to Sam.

Dean sat on the floor between the two beds. He drew his knees up and rested his outstretched arms. Sam's blood still covered his hands. He looked over at his younger brother and watched him struggle against his fever and the pain. Dean stood and glanced over at his brother.

"I'll be right back, Sammy." Dean said unnecessarily.

Dean walked into the bathroom and washed the blood from his hands. He returned to Sam and tossed the blood soaked towel into a corner of the room.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He watched Sam sleep. A little blood had soaked through the bandage, but that was to be expected. Dean pulled the laptop over and opened the page he had for the research on the spirit. His eyes weren't on the screen, they were on Sam.

After a while, Dean turned off the computer and set it aside. He didn't know what to do. He wanted Sam to be all right, but he didn't know how to make that happen. Dean paced across the room a few times. Finally he settled at the end of his bed and turned on the television. He flipped through the slightly limited channels until he came across the middle of a movie that didn't look too bad. He kept the volume low so that it didn't wake Sam and so that he could hear Sam if he needed anything.

Dean fell asleep without meaning to. He only meant to lay back and close his eyes for a second. When he woke, he immediately looked over at Sam. The only sign that Sam was still alive was the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His cheeks were still flushed with fever and his hair was damp. Dean pulled the sheet over Sam a little. The thermometer said that Sam's temperature was holding steady at 104.3.

Dean dug through the bag hoping that there was a bottle of antibiotics, but knowing all the while that he wouldn't find any. He looked at every bottle to see if there was something he could give Sam. Dean went through the option of taking Sam to the hospital countless times. If he gets any worse, Dean told himself, then he'd take him in. He intended to stay awake and keep watch over Sam, but he couldn't fight the need to sleep any longer.

The room was dark when Sam opened his eyes. He didn't know where he was or what had happened. His arm hurt more than it ever did. The pain made him feel sick. He shook from his fever and was tangled in the sweat soaked sheet.

"Dean?" It wasn't much more than a whisper. "Dean."

The small lamp between the two beds switched on. Dean sat up and looked over at Sam. He was at his brother's side in a second.

"Dean?" Sam touched Dean's hand to see if he was real.

"How are you feeling?"

Sam blinked slowly. "I'm thirsty."

Dean grabbed a water bottle off the floor. He helped Sam sit up a little and take a few sips.

"Do you want any more?"

Sam shook his head. Dean took his temperature again, but there was no change. Sam was falling back asleep.

"Dean?" He couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Yeah, Sammy."

"Am I dreaming?"

Dean sighed. "No."

Dean shifted and Sam grabbed his sleeve. "No hospitals."

"Okay, Sammy."

Sam fell back asleep. Dean took the towel from Sam's forehead and soaked it in cold water again. He returned it to his brother's fevered head. Sam moaned in his sleep and shook with chills. Dean sat on the floor between the two beds. He stayed awake a few more hours before he fell asleep without meaning to.

---------------------

Dean woke in the morning with his neck stiff from sleeping against the nightstand. He stood and looked over at Sam. Dean took Sam's temperature, 104, and grabbed a quick shower. Sam hadn't moved when Dean emerged from the bathroom. Dean quietly dressed and slipped on his boots and jacket. He scribbled a note to Sam about getting breakfast and reluctantly left the room.

Dean returned a few minutes later to find Sam as he left him. Dean pulled out the laptop and continued to research the school.

Sam shifted in his delirium. "Please, no."

Dean was at his brother's side in a second. "It's all right, Sammy."

"No." He sighed.

Dean replaced the damp cloth on Sam's forehead. Sam relaxed and stopped fighting against the sheet. Dean sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes until he was sure that Sam was all right.

Sam slept through the better part of two days. Dean gave him water whenever Sam seemed closer to consciousness than to unconsciousness. Dean still couldn't get Sam's fever to go down much, but it didn't get any higher either. Every now and then Sam would wake up enough to say a few words, nothing that ever really made sense though.

Dean was starting to get tired of the room, but he wasn't about to do anything that would made Sam worse. Dean spent his time looking up anything on the school. He'd only leave for a few minutes to get something to eat and even then he regretted stepping out the door. He filled hours meticulously cleaning the weapons and organizing the bags, making a list of things to stock up on when they had the chance.

Dean had skipped lunch that day and couldn't ignore his hunger any longer. He slipped out for five minutes for dinner. He returned and automatically looked at Sam, he hadn't moved. Dean dropped his jacket on the floor and kicked off his boots. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before pulling up the laptop. He had the situation at the school pretty much figured out, so he started looking at other jobs after the haunted school.

"Hey."


	7. Return

I still don't own any of this, so please don't sue if you are in a position to do so. I just use the brilliant characters, so thank you.

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"Hey."

Dean looked up and saw that Sam was awake. "Welcome back to the living."

Sam pushed himself up onto the pillow a little.

"You've been out for three days now."

"Sorry." He lowered his eyes.

Dean closed the laptop and took Sam's temperature. "103.2, that's the lowest number I've seen."

Sam thought for a second. "What happened?"

"You tried to keep a souvenir from your fight with the demon."

Sam didn't understand and he was too tired to figure it out. "Translation?"

"You had part of its fang in your arm."

Sam nodded and sunk into the pillow. Dean brought over a sports drink and wouldn't leave Sam alone until he drank half of it and took a few aspirins. Dean checked the cut on Sam's arm and saw that it was healing well enough, still a little infected, but better. He dabbed some rubbing alcohol on the wound and taped another bandage over it. Sam winced a little, but watched silently. Sam fell back asleep as soon as Dean let him.

When Sam woke again, the room was dark and Dean was asleep in the next bed. Sam shakily sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room spun sickeningly and he took a slow breath. He stood, which made everything worse, and made it to the end of his bed before he fell. He held his breath as he heard Dean wake.

"Sam?" Dean turned on the light, saw the empty bed and Sam sitting on the floor.

Dean jumped out of bed and knelt next to his brother. "What were you doing, Sammy?"

"I just wanted some water." Sam leaned against the bed.

"Sam, I can get it for you." Dean started to stand.

Sam grabbed his wrist. "Help me up."

"Sam." 

Sam gave Dean a look that both conveyed his seriousness and his weakness. Dean grasped Sam's arm and helped him to his feet. Sam wavered a moment before Dean took hold of Sam's shoulders. Dean walked his brother to the bathroom.

Sam took hold of the doorframe. "I got it, Dean."

Dean had to let his brother go. Sam closed the door and fell against the counter. He took a few breaths to steady himself. He used the bathroom and leaned against the counter again. He cupped water into his hands and splashed it on his face. Sam steadied himself and opened the door.

Sam wasn't surprised to see Dean lurking a few feet away. Dean took Sam's arm and helped him back to bed. Sam was too weary to argue against the help and he realized that he probably needed it anyway. By the time Sam was seated on the edge of the bed, he was damp with sweat and ached with fever.

Dean watched him closely. "You shouldn't have been up."

"I'm fine, Dean."

Sam leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He heard Dean shake a pill bottle.

"Sam."

Sam looked over and took the three pills and drank the glass of water without argument. He really just wanted to sleep.

"Are we moving on tomorrow?" Sam asked with his eyes closed.

Dean looked at him for a second. "And everyone thinks that you're the smart one."

"Very funny. I'm all right, Dean." Sam sounded exhausted.

"Oh yeah, you always fall to the floor when you feel good." Dean smirked.

Dean tossed the thermometer to Sam. He sat up and glared at his older brother. He took his own temperature all the while staring down Dean. It beeped and Sam read the number.

"Tell me what it says or I'll have to do again." Dean smiled. "You don't want that to happen."

Sam rolled his eyes. "103."

Dean grabbed the thermometer anyway and read the number himself.

Sam lay back and pulled the blanket over. The movement had worn him out. He just wanted to sleep and forget about the pain and forget how sick he felt. Dean watched Sam's struggle against the desire to sleep.

"Hey, Sammy?"

"Hmmm?"

"How's your arm feel?"

Sam thought for a few seconds. "Still hurts, but it's better I think."

"Honestly?"

"Yeah. "

Dean thought Sam had finally fallen back asleep, he went back to the computer screen.

"Dean?"

He looked over and met Sam's eyes. "What do you need?"

"Nothing like that." He paused. "Thanks for not taking me to the hospital."

"You remember that?"

Sam sat up on his uninjured arm. "Sort of. Thanks for everything Dean."

"Awe, jeeze. You don't want to hug me, do you?"

Sam smiled. "Ass hole."

"Jerk."

When Dean looked over again, Sam was asleep.

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Sam's fever continued to slowly drop. His arm was healing well and Sam's white blood cells were finally able to beat back the infection. He was getting bored of the room now that he wasn't sleeping for days at a time. Dean wouldn't let him out of the room, he barely let Sam out of bed. Sam couldn't blame him, much. He was still pretty weak and even a few times across the room would wear him out enough for a few more hours of sleep.

Sam woke before Dean for the first time in almost a week and a half. He felt better than he had in a long time, not completely well, but enough that maybe Dean would let them move on. He knew that Dean had been ready to move on for almost a week and Sam didn't want to keep them there any longer. He was ready to move on as well.

He climbed out of bed and grabbed a quick shower. He was still a little off balance if he moved too quick, but it wasn't important. The water refreshed Sam more than anything else. His reflection in the mirror was still a little pale, but his eyes didn't reveal any fever. He shaved and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Dean was sitting on the end of the bed.

Dean looked over. "About time you showered."

"I was sick, what's your excuse?"

Dean stood. "Let me get a look at your arm."

"It's fine."

Dean met Sam's eyes. "I'll tackle you."

"Jerk." Sam muttered and acquiesced to Dean.

He pulled of the bandage and noted that there wasn't much blood on the gauze. The wound wasn't red around the edges and only a little warm to touch. It was closing well and looked good in respect to all that had happened. Dean wiped it down with rubbing alcohol and taped it up again.

Dean shrugged and headed for the bathroom. "Pack up your stuff."

"Does that mean we're leaving finally?"

The bathroom door closed and the shower started. "Generally that's the idea behind pack up your stuff." Dean yelled from the bathroom. "Might as well start now, a girl like you will take all morning."

Sam smiled mischievously to himself and went to the bathroom door. He turned the knob slowly so that it was silent and carefully pushed open the door. Knowing that he'd pay for it later, Sam flushed the toilet and quickly closed the door. He heard Dean yell as the water temperature changed drastically.

Sam shoved everything into his bag and was sitting at the end of his bed when Dean emerged from the bathroom. Sam quickly wiped the smile from his face and pretended to pay attention only to the book he was reading.

"You'll pay dearly for that, Sammy."

Sam looked up. "What?"

"Oh, no. I don't buy that innocent crap you try to pull." Dean turned his back to Sam and smiled as he pulled on a shirt.

Dean checked them out of the room and climbed behind the wheel.

Dean looked over at Sam as he pulled onto the highway. "Now, if I remember correctly, two rooms ago, you looked at the door to our room and said something about being glad to see that place. Will you be okay leaving this one? I won't look if you cry, promise."

"Dean."

"If you want, I'll just let you stay, since you like it so much."

Sam shook his head and looked out the window. "Can't believe I'm related to you."

"I know. I'm just so awesome and you're so, so…there aren't words, Sammy."

Sam glanced back with a terse look. Dean cranked the volume of the radio and sped up a little.


End file.
